


Don't Drop Me Too

by biamond



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Loki is a dick, M/M, Minor Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Minor Jane Foster/Thor, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, POV Clint Barton, Teacher Bruce Banner, Teacher Clint Barton, Teacher Natasha Romanov, Teacher Steve Rogers, Teacher Wanda Maximoff, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biamond/pseuds/biamond
Summary: Clint loves his job, his friends and actually the rest of his life.But Clint is single.And being single sucks.Luckily there seems to be an end in sight as he falls in love with the steel-blue eyes in the car behind him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	1. Clint's Future Husband

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt to translate one of my fanfictions into English and I have absolutely no idea how it turned out. Since none of my friends speaks English well, I need you to tell me if it makes any sense for me to continue translating.  
> If you don't understand anything, please let me know so that I can crawl back into the German hole I came from and pretend that all this never happened.  
> Thanks :)
> 
> [if you speak german, please [check out the original](https://www.fanfiktion.de/s/5f6a7723000b3da433b958bf/1/Don-039-t-Drop-Me-Too)]

Clint hated weekdays. Weekdays meant work, work meant getting up early and that in turn meant a bunch of bad moods, which needed a lot of coffee and a lot of music to shrink. He had coffee, just as music. Clint held a cup in his hand, while a second one was waiting for him in the cup holder between the two seats, and his favourite Jason Derulo album was booming from the speakers of his car.

But his mood didn't get any better, because it wasn't just any weekday, no, it was Monday. On Clint's personal "Weekday-Hate-Scale", Monday was far ahead of Thursday, which Clint would otherwise prefer to declare forbidden. The main reason for this was that many people shouted "have a nice weekend" to you that day because they'd see you again only afterwards, but then you have to realize that this week isn't over yet.

Now, of course, you might think that Clint had to have a terrible job, poorly paid, with a creepy boss and annoying colleagues. But that definitely wasn’t the case. Clint loved his job, his colleagues, found his boss creepy only sometimes and the pay was good, too.

He just hated getting up early. As soon as he was in school, preparing himself for the day with the others in the teacher's room, his mood would rise anyway as if there had been no morning at all. Until then, however, there were still twenty minutes of driving ahead of him, and since it was Monday, he'd have to spent them grumpy, despite the coffee and the music.

It could have been pure coincidence or the will of a supernatural force, that couldn't stand Clint's bad mood any longer, that Clint looked in his side mirror at the same moment that the man in the car behind him looked there, too. If one of Clint's senses was good, it was his eyesight so that he could see the other without any problems.

It took Clint one " _Jason Derulo_ " with a long _o_ to realize he was staring right into the eyes of his future husband. In _steel-blue eyes_ , well noticed. Clint hadn't known before that his better half had to have steel-blue eyes, god, he hadnt' even known that _such_ steel-blue eyes existed at all, but from now on that would be one of the most important criteria in his partner search.

However, he thought, _partner search_ wouldn't be necessary anymore, because if these steel-blue eyes weren't sitting in this beautiful face with the sharp cheekbones, he didn't want them. Clint seemed to have been staring a little too long, because the man returned his gaze, smiled amused ( _holy shit_ , that s _mile_ ) and then turned his gaze excessively focused on the road ahead.

Clint, however, was by no means able to look away and instead admired the dimples that had formed on the man's cheeks while smiling and were still visible, as he apparently didn't intend to stop. As he turned his head a little to the side, Clint could see that his future husband, who unfortunately didn't know about it yet, wore his dark brown hair in a messy bun at the back of his head. Clint was no one who was only interested in the outside, but it was a fucking _Messy Bun_ , okay, and there was really no avoiding that he had to turn his gaze away in order to avoid unpleasant situations in his pants.

In addition, Clint hadn't been laid in ages, which should perhabs be mentioned at this point.

With his eyes fixed on the street, he sang quietly with Jason in a duet and tried to think of other things. Clint would probably never forgive the universe for having to play _Talk Dirty to Me_ at that very moment.

But in the end it didn't matter either because Clint didn't even keep it through to half the song, as his look shuddered again into the mirror. This time it was him who was being stared at, but Mr. steel-blue eyes looked away in a much more charming and self-assured way than Clint had done before when _he_ had been caught.

In this way thirteen more minutes passed; a constant look back and forth, in which Clint hoped each time that the other wouldn't turn his gaze away too early so that he could sink into these eyes a little longer. However, over time he was not so sure whether he should be happy about this whole thing, instead of being frustrated.

Sure, his mood was raised at least in the moment, but in the end all of this was just a silent almost-flirt with a probably-hetero. None of this would bring Clint any further and help him out of that sexless hell. It would probably be best to just sto-

 _Steel-blue eyes._ They looked right back into Clint's and any possible argument against the whole thing faded to a rainbow-shaped nothing. Well, then it would frustrate him afterwards, now at the moment he would enjoy the sight of his unknowing boyfriend first. But Mr steel-blue eyes decided to give his attention to his phone instead of Clint.

He couldn’t hold back his disappointment, however dumb it was. Probably the man had just had enough of the strange situation, which Clint would find quite understandable, if he hadn't had the feeling all the time that they both found it amusing.

With one last, almost longing look, he pulled himself away from the other and looked forward again, but it only took a few seconds for something to catch its attention again. The display of his phone, which was next to him on the center console, lit up and announced that James wanted to share a note with him via AirDrop.

Clint frowned. He didn't know any James or anyone with that nickname, let alone anyone in AirDrop radius. Clint's eyes rugged up into the side mirror, but Mr. Steel-blue eyes looked completely focused on the road again. However, he had a smile on his lips that might confirm Clint's assumption. He swallowed once, then he accepted the message and a note opened.

Along with the message

_If you're the guy in front of me that's been staring at me for 15 minutes, let me know!_

there was a cell phone number just waiting to be clicked on by Clint.

But he still wasn't sure, because he just couldn't have that much luck in his life. Skeptical he looked into the side mirror again and this time the other – James – looked back again. Their eyes met and James shrugged as he winked (winked!), which made him seem innocent and self-confident at the same time.

Clint - now really convinced that this really happened - nodded vehemently, making the other's smile even wider (and relieved). James saluted with two fingers, then his car speeded up and raced past Clints. The fact that he started laughing out loud was partly due to the little rainbow flags dangling from James' rear-view mirror and partly due to the fact that he had been driving excessively slowly the whole time. Clint didn't like to admit it, but he enjoyed the thought that he'd been the reason for it.

*~*~*~*

Clint's smile lasted for the rest of the ride and didn't fade when he parked his car in the teacher's parking lot and walked the short distance to the main entrance of the Shield High School. He hadn't clicked on the number yet, somewhere you had to set a limit when it came to the use of phones while driving.

But now Clint pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and opened the note. He stared at the numbers for a few steps, then he took a deep breath and clicked on them. If he was lucky enough to get the number of a good-looking guy (even if in a rather strange way) he had to take the chance as well. He created a new contact, called him James, and opened messages.

Clint’s fingers hovered over the keyboard for a while while he thought hard about what to write. In the end, he decided not to worry too much about it. Should he be embarrassed, he could easily delete the number again (even if he wanted to avoid it best).

(7:31) _hey_

(7:31) _this is the stalker from the car in front of you :)_

The moment Clint clicked on Send, he already regretted the decision to have set an emoji. That's what 40-year-old mothers did, who arranged for a coffee party. He was neither 40, nor mother, nor did he want to hold a coffee party (even if he had nothing against more coffee at the moment). No, Clint was a 27-year-old sports and music teacher, and they didn't send emojis, especially when they texted a hot stranger. But James had already read the message, so there was nothing he could do about it anymore.

"No cell phones at school, Mr. Barton!" shouted a voice in front of him. He looked up and recognized Mandy Barrop, who was also approaching the teachers' room from the other side of the corridor with Jil Hawson. The two were seniors and have been in Clint's sports class since their freshman year. How it could happened that he had to teach them again, was really a mystery to him. Both were intelligent and friendly and he got along very well with them, but they were exactly the kind of girls you wouldn't want to have in your gym class: Every third lesson there were "women's problems", which _of course_ always occurred at exactly the same time with both of them, and they then used the free hour to talk comfortably on the bench in the gym about the latest gossip. Sighing, he put his cell phone back in his pocket, knowing full well that this rule did not apply to teachers at all.

"What do you want?" he asked the two while he unlocked the teacher's room door.

"We need to talk to Mr. Rogers about our art project", Jil answered with an angelic expression.

Clint nodded, opened the door and entered. "Steve!", he called. "Someone wants to ask for extra points!"

Steve Rogers, history and art teacher, rushed past him to the door, over-motivated as always, and actually started talking to Mandy and Jil about something that sounded like an extra point opportunity. Clint rolled his eyes, placed his bag on his place and let himself fall on the chair. Natasha Romanoff sat next to him as usual and now looked up from a pile of Russian-exams. "How bad is our mood today?" she asked him with her eyebrow pulled up.

Clint sighed. "Well, until now it was at a stable ten, but now that I’ve seen Miss I-Am-Super-Engaged-In-Art number one and two, it’s down to a six-point-five."

Bruce Banner sat down opposite them and said laughing, "Are you getting annoyed by Mandy and Jil again?

"No," Clint said, stretching the word. "I'm just upset that Cap gets all their motivation while they're on their period every third lesson in my class. And we have three lessons a week..."

(How the nickname Cap was born for Steve, nobody really knew anymore. He was probably named because of his leader behavior on school trips and in the rest of his life, but Clint was not sure about that either).

"Don't complain," Nat scolded, but she laughed along the way. "I have Benjamin Refly in one of my sports classes, try to do some reasonable athletics or play basketball! He first calculates the trajectory of the ball or the angle of the jump and in the end he doesn't move once per hour."

Clint half-heartedly agreed with her with a nod.

"I don't wanna hear anything," Wanda joined the conversation from the other end of the room. "I have the entire Weslink-gang in my psychology class. Your three problem kids are nothing compared to that." She took a sip from her coffee cup and continued her conversation with Professor Coulson as if she had never said anything. A typical Wanda thing.

"All right, let's agree that Maximoff wins," said Natasha in a tone of voice that made it abundantly clear that a topic followed that interested her more. "So, Cupid, how is it possible that your mood was at level ten when you arrived. Your average on Mondays is minus five."

Interested, Bruce leaned forward in his chair and Nat looked at him full of expectation. As if to remind Clint himself what the reason was, his cell phone vibrated. "I don't know," he said with a shrug and pulled the smartphone out of his pocket. As expected, it was James who had sent him a message. Clint immediately felt his heart start beating faster, which was... stupid, but there was nothing he could do about it.

(7:35) **hey**

(7:35) **If you were someone else, that would really suck... then my dramatic overtaking action earlier would have made no impression at all**

(7:35) _Yes, it would, but it would've been quite confusing. Then I would have to think all day long about what I did wrong that you suddenly left._

(7:36) **well, now you have the whole day to... do what?**

(7:36) _So you want to interview me straight away and not just say something about the fact that you sent me your fucking number via_ airdrop _?_

(7:36) _what if you hadn't reached my cell phone but the one of some perverted creep?_

(7:36) **1\. what can I say, there is a hot guy in front of me in the car staring at me and the 21st century makes it possible to give him my number, so why not?**

(7:36) **2\. I had to take the risk.**

(7:37) _How do you know that I'm not also one of said perverts? I stalked you through my side mirror._

(7:37) **Understandable.**

(7:37) _?_

(7:37) **I'm very handsome.**

(7:37) _…_

(7:37) _yes you are. and I'm hot?_

(7:37) **definitely**

(7:38) _So, do you want to have a debate about which of us is more handsome or do you talk about yourself? I feel like a superficial asshole if I only tell you how good-looking you are._

(7:39) **well, you can't say much more than that to me xD**

(7:39) _But you can change that ;)_

(7:40) _Unless you are one of those who are only looking for compliments..._

(7:40) **never**

(7:41) _all right, I'm Clint, 27, teacher + a walking disaster_

(7:41) **Well, I know how to save you in my contacts**

(7:41) **and that doesn't sound like a good combination...**

(7:42) _don't get cheeky. I'm a great teacher!_

(7:42) **Which subjects?**

(7:42) _Music and sports_

(7:43) **In those subjects a disaster is sometimes just right ;)**

(7:43) _exactly_

(7:43) _And what about you? I feel spied on if you don't tell me something too_

(7:44) **Well, I'm sorry, but I have to go. Work is calling. Unfortunately I don't have time to tell you what kind of work it is.**

(7:44) _I've known you for ten minutes, but somehow I have the feeling that you wanna annoy me_ -_-

(7:45) **You have a good feeling, little desaster.**

(7:45) _oh no, we don't even start with embarrassing nicknames!_

(7:46) **oh yes we do**

(7:46) _I hate you already_

(7:46) **we both know this isn't true ;**

(7:46) **ttyl...?**

(7:47) _I hate you_

(7:48) _...but yes._

(7:48) **:)**

Clint turned off his phone and put it away. Natasha looked up from her Russian exams again, just as Bruce turned away from his math notes. "Who did you text with," she asked, and Clint knew immediately that Natasha knew that this someone had been the reason for his good mood.

"With no one," he said with a smile that he hadn't even noticed had crept onto his lips. He saw that neither Nat nor Bruce believed him, but they didn't go after him (it wouldn't happen until after class) and Clint was very happy with that. He had no idea how to explain the situation anyway. "The guy in the car behind me airdropped his number and we had a pretty weird but confusingly nice conversation and we're already scheduled for another one" didn't sound too good.

Even for Clint himself, this just sounded weird. But as strange as it was, he had really enjoyed the short conversation with James. He seemed to be someone who seemed to fit right into Clint's circle of friends. At least that was what his feelings told him. With a grin on his face at the thought about their next chat, Clint started to sort his notes for the first lesson, only to start the week with an unnaturally happy mood afterwards.


	2. How Not to Teach the C Major Scale

"No Robin, Beethoven and Mozart are not the same person and neither of them wrote Romeo and Juliet! That was Shakespeare! And he belongs in a totally different subject."

Clint was on the verge of banging his head so hard against the board that he hurt himself badly enough to stop teaching this music class until graduation. He had known that his unnaturally good mood wouldn't last all day. Classical music was rarely an easy subject, but this class surpassed all the others he'd ever had. As much as he loved classical music himself (there was hardly a style of music that Clint didn't like), here he thought at least once every lesson about whether he shouldn't just give a shit about the curriculum and only listen to pop songs with the students.

He held back a sigh and turned around to the class again. "It doesn't matter which composer wrote what right now..." _If this word means anything to you at all_ , he added in thought. "...because in order to be able to talk about and analyze pieces of music at all, you must at least know the basics - in terms of notes and rhythm. I've been telling you this since the beginning of the school year and it hasn't changed, so you can save your questions about Shakespeare until each of you at least knows the C major scale." _Even though Shakespeare still doesn't belong in this subject._

Clint turned back to the board and began to mark the individual notes he had previously neatly written down with the correct letter, just like a fucking elementary school teacher did. Or rather, should do, because apparently no one had thought it would be necessary with these students.

He let the students copy what was written on the board, but was 100% sure that only a third of the course at most actually did it. Clint could either say something about it or simply hope that one student would show mercy and send a photo of his notes to the others. He decided on the latter and began distributing some worksheets with scale exercises. To his own surprise, he had even created them himself instead of copying them from some elementary school website. This was definitely a sign that Clint was not a complete failure as a teacher of an annoying course after all.

When he was sure that each student had a piece of paper in front of them ( and was aware of it), he sat down at the desk and left the students to themselves. Surely they would be able to read the notes if each one was labeled on the board.

As if someone (Clint didn't immediately try to hope it was _that_ someone) had sensed that Clint had nothing to do for a few minutes, the phone in his pocket vibrated. He really should ignore it. The smartphone rule did not apply to teachers, but Clint still had a role model function and actually wanted to keep it.

But Clint was an idiot and probably a pretty bad teacher (after all, he shamelessly admitted to himself that he really didn't care about this course at all) and pulled out his phone. Any guilty conscience, which had hardly been there anyway, disappeared as soon as he read the name _James_ on the display.

It had been about four hours since their last conversation and that was enough to make Clint's heart beat a little faster, as if they had known each other forever and hadn't seen each other in ages.

Clint didn't know what exactly it was about this man that caused such extreme reactions in him. Yes, he looked good, _really fucking good_ , but it wasn't as if Clint hadn't already landed on loads of profiles of good-looking guys during his (unsuccessful) trips on Grindr and Co.

Okay, none of them had looked _that_ good (steel-blue eyes crept into his mind again), but James was just a stranger from the car behind him and the simple thought of him was enough to almost give Clint a hard-on in class and put him in the most uncomfortable situation of his life. Maybe it was the mere fact that the interest was not one-sided and James had even riskily shared his fucking phone number that attracted Clint so much. He really had no idea. With a soft sigh, half desperate and half dreamy, he opened the message.

(11:01) **Can I ask you something?**

Clint frowned. He couldn't tell what kind of question would come next. Something told him it would be a serious one, but Clint's intuition really sucked, so he wouldn't trust it.

(11:01) _sure_

(11:02) **You are a music teacher, right?**

(11:02) _Yes?_

(11:02) **Are you one of those strangely spiritual kind who becomes one with the music, sings, dances and basically just scares the students?**

Clint let out a snorting laugh that made the students in the front row look up in disbelief. A cheerful Clint was a rarity in this class, so it was only too understandable that it confused the students a bit.

(11:03) _xD_

(11:03) _I don't think so... what are the other kinds?_

(11:04) **Good. There's the teacher that everybody hates because he only does theory in class and he always wants to make you analyze operas or whatever.**

(11:05) **And the third kind (and I'm sure you're one of them) are the hot guitar-playing teachers who want to get kids to play music and watch high school musicals in class at least once a year.**

Clint stared at the message in surprise for a moment, shocked at how perfectly it fit him. Basically, all he wanted to achieve in music lessons was that the students enjoyed music, maybe wanted to learn an instruments or just wanted to get a little more involved. Even though it didn't seem like that in this class, Clint usually tried to solve as much as possible in a practical way and bring the children into direct contact with instruments and music.

And yes, at the end of each semester he would watch a movie with the classes, and yes, even High School Musical was more often in it than he would admit.

(11:06) _did you bug my classrooms and stalk me?_

(11:07) **Please tell me I was right**

(11:07) _fuck, yes_

(11:07) _how the hell did you know about the guitar?_

(11:07) **Well, music teachers always play piano or guitar and you looked like a guitar person**

(11:08) _you seem to spend a lot of time evaluating people. Is this some kind of hobby?_

(11:08) **Yes...yes I think so xD It's just fun to find out afterwards if you were right**

(11:09) _alright Sherlock Holmes_

(11:09) _I am honored to be your fun :)_

(11:09) **As you should, it's a great honor ;)**

(11:10) _Are you always so cocky?_

(11:10) **Not really. But my boss is the king of being cocky, which will eventually rub off on you xD**

(11:11) _Your boss seems to be exhausting_

(11:11) **Yes, he is, but he's really funny, smart and can be nice when he wants to be**.

(11:11) **and he pays well**

(11:12) _Hm, maybe I should change profession and become...what exactly?_

(11:12) **These are really the most embarrassing attempts to figure out my job I've ever seen**

(11:12) _is this something people try more often?_

(11:12) **No, you're the only hot stranger I airdropped my number to ;) So no need to worry little desaster**

(11:13) _don't call me that_ -_-

(11:13) **:P**

(11:13) _okay, but seriously, what kind of work do you do to have time to text right now?_

(11:14) **Hey, I'm not the only one who's texting. It's been a while since I was in high school, but I think you should be in class right now**

(11:14) _I am, but I'm teaching in the stupidest course that exists... they don't even know the C major scale!_

(11:15) **I'm not a teacher, but isn't it your job to teach them?**

(11:15) _no that's the job of a elementary school teacher. Of course I have to do it anyway, at some point I have to grade. But after a student really wanted to tell me that Mozart and Beethoven are the same person, my patience has run out for today._

(11:15) **understandable**

(11:15) _I swear, normally I'm a good teacher_

(11:16) **Do you watch High School Musical with the students?**

(11:16) _this one or other Disney movies_

(11:16) **Okay, you are a good teacher**

(11:16) _if only the internship would've been that easy xD_

(11:17) _but we differ from the topic..._

(11:17) **No, I won't tell you what I work as ^^**

(11:17) _just to piss me off?_

(11:17) **Exactly**

(11:18) **Since my best friend is in a relationship with my boss, I can't bother him anymore because... my boss takes care of it. And my other best friend doesn't live here and blocks me on a regular basis...**

(11:18) _sounds like a great friendship_

(11:18) **It really is! First we hated each other, then we fucked and since then we're friends.**

(11:19) _And you're sure that your affair has nothing to do with the fact that he moved away and regularly blocks you?_

(11:19) **Absolutely sure. That was seven years ago, we were in our early 20s!**

(11:19) **He's just an asshole xD The kind of guy who purposely doesn't push his car seat forward just to make it extra uncomfortable for you in the back.**

(11:20) **okay, you don't care anyway, I should stop. The point is, I don't have anybody to annoy, so I'll just take you**

(11:20) _alright :)_

(11:20) _be prepared that I'm gonna do the same..._

(11.20) **do you also have a best friend in a fresh relationship?**

(11:21) _worse, an engaged best friend who has been talking only about weddings for months_

(11:21) **Oh man, I'm so sorry**

(11:21) _thanks_

(11:21) _okay, I should really go and be a teacher a little more now... a student just said again that Mozart-Beethoven wrote Romeo and Juliet_

(11:21) **Lucky that I didn't become a music teacher after all**

(11:22) _Was that a consideration of yours?_

(11:22) **no actually not... maybe I wanted to do something in the musical direction, but then I left it behind. But I still play the piano now and then...**

(11:22) _are you doing this on purpose?_

(11:22) **what?**

(11:22) _being too attractive for this world_

(11:23) **charming**

(11:23) **And no, that is innate ;)**

(11:23) **And now go, before your students become even more stupid!**

(11:23) _Fine... do you wanna get rid of me?_

(11:23) **would never even cross my mind**

(11:23) _I talk to you later again, okay?_

(11:24) **More than okay**

Clint turned off his cell phone with a beating heart and put it back in his pocket. Fuck, if this went on, he would die of a heart attack just for texting with James!

Before that he had been a bit afraid that the conversation might get weird or that it would turn out that James wasn't marriage material after all. The opposite was the case. Clint was close to locating James' cell phone, buying an engagement ring at the nearest jewelry store and making his way to his future husband.

Of course he wouldn't do that, he still had a little decency, but he was allowed to dream. With a sigh, he returned to reality, only to find that his students hadn't even realized what a scale actually was for the whole lesson and that he could start all over again.


	3. The End of a Typical Monday

After Clint had dropped the shopping bags and carelessly thrown his jacket, phone and keys next to them, he threw himself head first onto the bed and buried his face in the pillows. His shoulder ached from the heavy bags (why did the frozen pizzas have to be on sale, otherwise he would never have bought so many at once) and a thunderstorm was brewing outside. Clint basically hated any kind of weather where you couldn't see the sky because of all the clouds and he hated thunderstorms the most. And he didn't care one bit how fascinating the formation of this phenomenon was, thank you very much Bruce.

He had actually hoped that his day (and his mood) would get better after the catastrophic music lesson, but of course he was wrong. Declan Harrison just couldn't resist throwing a basketball in Michelle Adams' face with all his (rather considerable) strength. Michelle already burst into tears at every little thing, but this action had really freaked her out. For a moment Clint thought she was going to die of dehydration, which would have made it even shittier for him than the situation with Michelle's broken nose already was.

But what could he do, it was just a completely typical Monday. With a sigh, Clint turned over on his back - he really didn't want to choke himself on a pillow. The only thing that cheered him up right now was the thought of a nice pizza and some sitcom. That would also distract him from the thoughts of James that, as expected, had been buzzing around Clint's head since their last conversation. The last conversation...Clint just had to think about it and instantly felt that familiar tingling in his stomach again. This couldn't be normal anymore!

He had never been one to believe in love at first sight, but when he looked back over the events of today, he began to reconsider his opinion. With the best will in the world, he couldn't think of what this feeling should be, if it wasn't the effect of a much too hasty crush.

Strangely enough, it didn't even seem too hasty to him. Sure, he knew it wasn't normal to talk about falling in love after a few glances in the side mirror and two chats, but here it just didn't seem wrong. But Clint had fallen for someone too many times before and it had never turned out well for him, so he decided to take things a little slower. He didn't necessarily need to tell his brain (heart? Who the hell was in charge of these things?) that this wouldn't work.

At that moment, his phone began to ring in his pocket. Clint groaned, but crawled to the foot of the bed anyway, fishing for his jacket from there. Just not moving off the bed, that was all that mattered. When he fished out the phone and saw Natasha's name on the display, he hesitated. His best friend didn't like to wait, but he could pretty much guess what she wanted from him. But whether he wanted the same thing, he wasn't really sure. Still, he took the call after a few moments, mainly because he knew that Nat would be at his front door in five minutes otherwise.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked as he sat up and let his legs dangle off the bed.

"You're coming out for drinks tonight, right?" Natasha's voice sounded cheerful and casual, but Clint knew her well enough to know that was her do-what-I-say voice. Clint sighed. This was exactly what he had expected.

"Nat, it's Monday and we're teachers. We can't get drunk every night."

"First of all, it's not every night, and second, there was no mention of getting drunk. Even you can handle a few beers without us having to carry you home."

Clint ran his hand through his hair and stared at the floor in desperation. It wasn't like he didn't want to do something anymore. Sure, he was pretty much looking forward to his relaxing evening with pizza and How I Met Your Mother, but going out with friends wasn't a bad plan either. However, he knew exactly which bar they would be going to and unfortunately there would be someone there today that Clint didn't want to run into at any cost. "I was actually planning on having these few beers at home. I have a huge stash of pizza that needs to go."

"We'll all come over on the weekend and help you out, but today we're going out. The band has their gig today, remember? And you promised Thor months ago that you'd come."

Even though Clint didn't like that fact, Natasah was right. However, he had only agreed because Thor's pleading puppy-dog eyes were simply impossible to resist. "But Tasha..."

"Don't call me that!"

"Bruce gets to do it, too!"

"Bruce gets to fuck and marry me as well..."

"Okay, _Na_ tasha." Clint rolled his eyes. The reference to their engagement really didn't have to be there. Don't take it the wrong way now, he really was incredibly happy that Nat was so lucky and that he would soon get to see her in a wedding dress, but it still hurt. The whole thing felt a bit like a final line - Bruce and Natasha, no longer Natasha and Clint. And maybe (or more likely mostly) the reason was pure jealousy.

Clint was just tired of being single.

With a sigh, he told himself not to think about it anymore. There would be time for self-pity later. So he turned back to the phone call. "What I wanted to say...I can't come."

"Why?" Natasha's voice sounded slightly annoyed by now.

"You know exactly why! When Thor performs with the band, they need another bartender and then _he_ 'll be there!"

Suddenly Nat laughed in disbelief. " _He?_ I mean, it must have been...I don't know...two and a half years ago now with you guys? And you're still afraid of him?"

"No. - Yes...but I have every right to!" hissed Clint. "I'm sorry if it hurts Thor's feelings or anything, but I'm certainly not going to that goddamn bar when Loki fucking Laufeyson is there to serve me my drink!"

"I thought it was just supposed to be beer?"

"Pff, as if Loki would even give out something as simple as beer."

Nat's tone became that of a mother talking to a rebellious toddler. "Now you're just being childish," she said. "Forget Loki for a second and keep a damn promise! If he comes near you in any way, he'll get my heel in the nuts. I'm wearing the red Louboutins, they should manage to get his sex drive under control."

Clint bit his lower lip, but didn't argue with her anymore. She was right somewhere, after all - he wasn't a kid anymore, and the whole thing with Loki and him was over long enough for him to be around him again. After all, they were adults. Still, he wasn't comfortable being in the bar with the guy who had somehow managed to sneak his way into his heart, only to tear him apart piece by piece from the inside out. Loki Laufeyson had an incomparable talent for triggering, manipulating, and changing people. Clint had somehow gotten involved in this relationship because it had felt right. In the end, it had only come to an end because Natasha and Wanda had managed to convince him that he wasn't himself anymore and something about this relationship wasn't really healthy. If it hadn't been for them, he'd probably still be hung up on Loki now, letting him influence him.

And cheating on him. The fact that he had slept with other people besides Clint had always been the least of his problems compared to the rest, though.

"So...?" asked Natasha impatiently, and Clint realized he had been lost in thought for far too long.

"Yeah, it's okay. I'll be there."

" Great. Eight pm!"

"I know."

The displeasure in his voice probably didn't seem particularly inconspicuous, because Nat's tone softened quite a bit when she followed up with, "Love you!"

Clint sighed softly. "Love you, too."

Then she hung up. He was about to just let himself fall backwards and bathe in a bit of self-pity. But Clint knew himself and knew all too well that if he did that, he wouldn't be able to find his already meager motivation again and would stay in bed. And he really didn't want to break that promise, especially not after Nat had made him feel bad about it. So he pushed himself up grumbling and went to the closet to pick out something semi-passable to wear. If he had to face Loki, then definitely not in the sweatpants he had worn in the last gym class.

*~*~*~*~*

Wearing tight black jeans (Clint looked good in tight jeans) and a low-buttoned red shirt (Clint looked good in red shirts and low-buttoned wasn't bad either), he left the house where his apartment was located a while later and crossed the street. He walked because he would end up drinking too much anyway, despite his good intentions, and because the bar was only a few minutes away.

He arrived ten minutes before eight. The huge neon sign announcing the name of the bar, "Asgard," to interested passers-by blinded Clint and he quickly turned his gaze away. Thor and Loki had been raised and named by two huge fans of Norse mythology and somehow that fascination had stuck. On the door, in addition to the "open" and "no smoking" signs, there was also a poster that drew attention to the performance of the rock band "Jotun" tonight.

Clint grinned at the sight of the photo of the band members, with Thor grinning his usual dimpled smile, which didn't seem to match the serious appearance of the others at all. Then he pushed down the door handle and entered. No live music was playing yet and the technicians were just setting up everything necessary. Clint walked straight over to their regular spot where Natasha, Bruce, Steve and Jane were already sitting with a drink each in front of them. Jane was also a teacher at Shield High School and mainly the reason they had met Thor and declared this bar their favorite. The two had been together for over ten years and were still as happy as the first day. Clint could scream every time he saw the two of them together. As he did with Nat and Bruce out of sheer jealousy.

He really needed a boyfriend.

He immediately regretted this thought when he sat down with the others and Loki, at that very moment, began to swagger from the bar to them in his typically elegant walk. He definitely had more than enough of _this_ boyfriend.

"Who do we have here?" he asked, no, almost purred, as he stopped in front of their table. "It's been a long time since I've been able to admire that pretty butt." Loki demonstratively leaned closer to Clint, letting his freaky green eyes (Clint had always been sure he wore contacts) take in every detail of him.

"One more word about my ass and you'll never feel yours again," Clint hissed. "And eyes up!"

Loki raised a perfectly styled eyebrow, while a small smile curled his lips. It was obvious that he was enjoying the situation. "I see someone has grown a spine. Did someone else have a hand in that? Or better yet in the-..."

"A beer." interrupted Clint harshly, "I want a beer. That's all you need to care about. Now piss off, your brother's about to perform."

Loki actually walked back to the bar, but that had probably caused Natasha's death stare rather than Clint's half-hearted rebuke. "I'm sorry," she muttered once Loki was out of earshot. "I forgot what a dick he is."

Clint gave her a simple shrug and turned his attention to Wanda, Vision, and Steve, who were walking up to them at that moment. "We get to meet Steve's boyfriend!" squealed Wanda in greeting, dropping down on the bench next to Clint. "Well, not today, but soon!"

The others at the table immediately turned to Steve. "Really?" asked Jane. "Your _boyfriend_ boyfriend, meaning Tony fucking Stark? _That_ boyfriend?"

"The one we've been trying to meet for three months?" added Nat.

Steve pulled up a chair from the next table and sat down at the head end, sighing. "Yes, _that_ boyfriend. And there was no mention of soon, Wanda! He just meant that he might have some time in the near future so we could visit him."

Wanda clapped her hands excitedly. "At Stark Tower?"

"At Stark Tower." said Steve, nodding.

They all gave each other excited and disbelieving looks. When Steve had announced four months ago that he was dating Tony Stark, the owner of Stark Industries, the former weapons company that now worked mostly on clean power generation, no one had believed him at first. It didn't get any better in the next while, as Tony never seemed to have time to prove he was really Steve's boyfriend. In addition, Cap didn't own a phone with a camera function, so he didn't have a picture of himself and Tony with him. Accordingly, it was finally time for them to meet the guy who made their Cap happy.

"Then when we get there at some point, you can finally meet Bucky! I already mentioned that he works for Tony, right?"

Yes, Steve had mentioned that, just as he had told pretty much everything else about his best friend. Bucky Barnes seemed to be the most important part of his life, next to Tony, and the others hadn't seen a picture of him either, let alone a real life appearance. Judging by what Steve had told him over the past few years, however, this Bucky was someone Clint would definitely get along with.

*~*~*~*~*

An hour and a half later, the concert was in full swing. Some of the audience had lined up in front of the makeshift stage (including Wanda and Jane), while others continued to sit at their tables and enjoy the music from there. Thor, Fandral and Sif were really good, but Clint couldn't really focus on them. Usually he was immediately in a trance when music played, but today he felt distracted and restless. Loki's presence made him nervous and the suggestive look he had been giving him at steady points since the beginning of the performance sent a shiver down his spine.

"I'm gonna go get some fresh air," he said loudly to the general crowd and got up. Before he could reach the door, Loki's long fingers closed around his upper arm and held him back. "So the way I interpret it..." he purred in his ear. "...There continues to be no one there who would want you. Otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here in a bad mood with your taken friends. Don't you think that's a clear sign that you should give me another chance? After all, I'm the only one who doesn't find you disgusting..."

A few years ago, Clint would have immediately jumped at that. He'd never been one with much self-esteem and would've believed without thinking about it, that even his best friends were only faking their loyalty to him and there was no one but Loki who would ever care about Clint.

Yes, he had been quite a moron.

"Shut up and go take care of your guests," Clint said as calmly as he could (well, not very calmly) and yanked his arm free. Then he turned to the door, opened it, and jumped down the three steps outside. There he leaned against the wall of the house and took a few deep breaths. It was mid-June and quite warm, so Clint wasn't freezing even without a jacket. The thunderstorm from earlier in the evening had gone away again. When he got his breathing back under control and felt fairly calm, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened the chat with James and looked at the latest messages.

(11:23) _I talk to you again later, okay?_

(11:24)) **More than okay**

Clint let his fingers hover over the screen for a moment. Was this really the right moment to talk to the guy from the car behind him? After a quick scroll through their last chat, it was clear: yes, it was. James seemed to say completely unrelated things even in fairly spontaneous situations, so Clint could do the same.

(21:35) _you know those situations where everyone tells you to be an adult, but you'd like nothing more than to break that one person's nose?_

It didn't even take two minutes for an answer to appear.

(21:36) **Umm may I guess?**

(21:36) _go ahead_

(21:37) **So either trouble with the boss or the ex-boyfriend.**

(21:37) **I'm tending to the 2nd one.**

(21:38) _you're good at tending_

(21:39) **What happened? Where do I have to go? Who do you want me to hit? Nobody expects me to act mature anyway :)**

(21:40) _haha_

(21:40) **I'm serious!**

(21:40) _thanks for your effort but believe me, even a beating won't stop this guy. I just want to hit him because...I don't know, it would feel good. it wouldn't change anything anyway._

(21:41) **Okay, what did this guy do?**

(21:41) _It's a long story_

(21:41) **Alright, hold on a sec.**

As soon as the message arrived, the door opened just a few feet from Clint and Natasha came out. She looked left and right, spotted him and headed toward him.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Clint nodded.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made you come. I really didn't think Loki would be in such a mood. And that you still couldn't handle it."

"It's okay." he mumbled, smiling briefly at her in encouragement, then turned back to his phone. James seemed to be offline.

"Who are you texting with?" asked Nat, leaning over the display. "Who's James?"

"No one.", Clint replied, unable to hold back the small smile that managed to sneak onto his lips.

Natasha watched him closely, seemed to think and come to a conclusion, and then smiled at him knowingly. "Have fun with _no one_ then," she said with a wink. "Come back in later, though, and tell Thor, Sif and Fandral they did good. You can't stroke their egos enough."

And with that, she was gone again and a new message appeared in the chat.

(21:43) **Okay, _now_ I have time. Go ahead **

And Clint started typing with a relieved grin.


End file.
